Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Estonia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing London Community Gospel Choir to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Jacques Brel,
The Fire Engines,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fela Kuti,
Youth Brigade,
Surgeon,
Mantronix,
The Mojo Men,
The United States of America,
Fugazi,
Rites of Spring,
Animal Collective,
Dual Sessions,
John Holt,
The Raincoats,
Gang Gang Dance,
Smog,
The Tremeloes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tubeway Army,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Stooges,
Albert Ayler,
10cc,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sam Rivers,
Moebius,
The Leaves,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bad Manners,
Roger Hodgson,
Cecil Taylor,
The Beau Brummels,
Dead Boys,
Man Eating Sloth,
Simply Red,
Intrusion,
Neu!,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wolf Eyes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ituana,
Cybotron,
Hasil Adkins,
The Moleskins,
Siglo XX,
Loose Ends,
New York Dolls,
The Monks,
Chrome,
Hashim,
U.S. Maple,
Clear Light,
Fad Gadget,
Joyce Sims,
H. Thieme,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.